The Way of One Principle

TRADITIONAL MARTIAL ARTS

Sunday, July 30, 2017

Although the
term, "kung-fu" (also, "gongfu"), serves as a
generic term for Chinese martial arts, use of the term in that regard
is actually a misnomer. As most of you already know, "kung-fu"
refers to a fine, high level of skill that is developed over a period
of time through hard work. Thus, "kung-fu" can actually be
applied to any martial discipline as well as many other activities
that require rigorous and regular practice over a period of time.

Throughout the
Orient it is understood by most persons who endeavor to train in any
martial form that substantial skill cannot be acquired quickly and
any teacher who promises otherwise is nothing more than a charlatan
whose main interest (and skill) lies in separating a student's money
from his wallet. At the same time, there are those who come from the
other end of the spectrum and insist that students must practice this
or that training routine (and pay for it every month, of course) for
an extraordinarily long period of time if he or she hopes to acquire
a high level of skill.

The truth, of
course, lies somewhere in the middle and students must be careful
about selecting a good teacher.

In the West we
are accustomed to things being accomplished fairly quickly. We have
microwaveable meals (which aren't really food....), instant
entertainment (just turn on the television), quick diets (which don't
work), and so on. When we want something, we want it NOW. When
martial arts were first introduced to the West, a number of
enterprising instructors realized that a great deal of money could be
made by short-cutting training routines and providing forms of
"instant martial arts." My own teacher envisioned this
happening although his young pupil (moi) just couldn't see it coming
down the pike. But it arrived like a thunderbolt and it's here to
stay.

No doubt, some of
the old, traditional training routines were extremely tedious but
they were necessary for the development of genuine martial skill (as
opposed to what is presented nowadays as being martial skill).
Westerners, being the way they are, sought to find short-cuts through
much of what they regarded as "unnecessary, old-fashioned,
unrealistic" training. Many honestly believed that they had
found ways to shorten the training process but the truth is much
different.

My teacher
likened the process to making tea. To make tea the old way takes time
and any attempt at hurrying the process will only ruin the drink. To
be sure, we now have "instant tea" but my teacher couldn't
stand the taste of it. There's tea and then there's tea.

Even so, most of
those who have undertaken the study of a traditional martial
discipline with the understanding that it's going to take time to
develop real skill will still often catch themselves "shaving
corners" and trying to take "big steps." Such attempts
at hurrying the training process and the evolution of genuine skill
almost always result in frustration and/or injury.

I knew one young
man who wanted to develop large callouses of his punching knuckles.
He beat the living bejeezus out of his striking post (which was
incorrectly made and was akin to hitting a tree) and mangled his
hands...he didn't realize that hardening the hands is NOT the primary
objective of training with this particular device, and he finally had
to give it up. Of course, he then argued that training with the post
was "old-fashioned", unnecessary, and unrealistic.

Another fellow
dreamed of being able to execute his form with the same precision,
grace, and power as his teacher. He trained his form for 2-3 hours
every day, suffering pulled muscles as well as numerous other minor
injuries. He ultimately gave up, insisting that forms were
"old-fashioned", unnecessary, and unrealistic.

And yet another
student envied the uncanny fighting skill of his seniors. He dreamed
of becoming an invincible warrior and practiced shadow-boxing and
sparring incessantly. When he engaged in sparring practice he often
went at it with a bit too much power and the wrong mind-set (he was
determined to "win"), so, of course, he often went home
with bruises, cracked ribs, black eyes, and many other booboos. He
finally gave up, saying that traditional training was
"old-fashioned", unnecessary, and unrealistic.

Progress in real
martial arts comes in what I call "baby steps"; little
steps that are sometimes too small to even measure or notice right
away. Regular practice is essential. After all, a toddler will never
learn to walk if he or she only tries to do it once in a while. So,
if you train (at home) just every now and then, you can be assured
that you're getting nowhere. On the other hand, if you're training at
home 3 days a week or more and you're taking your time (taking "baby
steps"), you can be confident that you're developing genuine
skill - and if you keep at it long enough you'll develop real
"kung-fu."

Thursday, July 20, 2017

Many
years ago, I used to write articles about various aspects of the
martial arts and send them out to my senior students. Along with
those articles, I included a number of anecdotes involving my teacher
and me. After some time, one of my students suggested that I collect
such anecdotes and put them into book form.

I
considered his suggestion; I remembered so many stories and valuable
lessons about both martial arts and life from my teacher! Maybe,
just maybe...people nowadays would enjoy learning these same lessons!
They could actually learn from my teacher!!! I thought that would
certainly be a great opportunity, so I set about writing my first
book, THE MAKING OF A BUTTERFLY.

Memories
flooded my mind. I tried to select anecdotes with a special
lesson(s) included. In this way, my teacher could still speak to
those willing to listen and learn. Of the five books I've authored,
it's still my favorite!

Monday, May 29, 2017

I would
hope that the majority of my readers would be more than a little
familiar with the basic forms of etiquette that are typically
practiced within the training hall. Students line up prior to the
start of class, bow to the instructor, and then begin the training
session. The same thing is done at the conclusion of the training
period. Most of the participants don't give it much of a second
thought. It's simply a way of “showing respect” to the teacher;
an “Eastern oddity” that is practiced more as a form of tradition
and simple courtesy than anything else. It requires no more than a
few seconds, anyway. No big deal. Or...is it?

To the
average person, such quaint customs are nothing more than polite
gestures that they are expected to learn and then regurgitate at the
appropriate time. Usually, they are devoid of any real substance;
they are regarded as old-fashioned, cultural oddities that were
developed and practiced by our ancestors. However, to the bugeisha
(a person who practices the traditional martial ways of the East),
they are much more than that. Much. More.

For
instance, let's take the beginning of class. Students are ordered to
line up. Their lines should be straight and students adopt the
position of “readiness.” In some schools, the most senior
student (who may assist the instructor) stands off to one side at a
right angle to the students and the instructor. Your stance should
never look limp or sloppy. Your uniform should be neat and clean.
Your body, mind, and spirit are held in a state of readiness. It is
a preparation for learning, a preparation to face yourself. Your
eyes should be directed straight ahead but peripheral vision must be
maintained. You should not shift their eyes from side to side or
turn your head. You remain focused on your instructor.

At this
point, some schools have the students and the instructor perform a
standing bow. Others, particularly Japanese disciplines, order
students to kneel down (and yes, there is a special way of doing
this) in the position of seiza
with the feet tucked under the buttocks. Beginners will find this
position more than a little uncomfortable but they must avoid any
display of discomfort. To do so is to show that one's spirit is weak
and in a martial arts school this is entirely unacceptable.

In
Japanese schools the command of “mokuso!” is uttered by the
instructor. Students sit quietly with their backs straight and their
eyes almost shut. Many people refer to this as a period of
meditation prior to the beginning of class but this is incorrect.
Rather, it is a period of quiet introspection. It is way of leaving
your mental and emotional “baggage” at the door so that it will
not interfere with training and your ability to learn. It is a time
for focusing on what you want to achieve during this particular
class. You “clean” yourself and prepare to receive instruction.

After
a short time, the teacher may turn to the front of the school (with
his back to the students) and they all perform a formal kneeling bow
to the front of school. He then turns to face the students again and
they exchange bows to show respect for each other.

As
with everything else in the training hall, there is a proper way to
execute the standing and kneeling bows. For instance, I remember
when I first received instruction in this ancient tradition. We were
told that even when bowing, one must not take one's eyes off the
opponent (or whomever one is bowing to). Thus, we craned our necks
and rolled our eyes upwards when we bowed so as to keep our partners
in view. As you might expect, my instruction came from a Westerner
who didn't clearly understand how the proper bow is to be done. The
first time I did this in front of a Japanese instructor, I was
quickly corrected. To crane one's neck and raise the eyes as I was
doing is considered very rude because it demonstrates an obvious
mistrust of the person(s) to whom one is bowing. Rather, the neck is
kept aligned with the back and the eyes are are allowed to drift
slightly upwards (without raising the eyebrows) so as to allow a
reasonably full view of the other person.

And
of course, all movements must be performed from the tanden
(in Chinese, dantien)
so as to permit complete control over one's body at all times.
Moving from this area, which is located about three finger-widths
below the navel, not only grants full control over one's physical
movements but it also affects one's mental and spiritual stability as
well.

Regardless
of procedure or the culture from which a given martial form
originated, this act of exchanging bows is extremely important. In
my opinion, it is vital to maintaining the spirit of the class
because it sets the “tone” of the class and reminds us that we
are about to engage in the practice of a special Eastern custom
whose roots reach back to antiquity. Although not a drop of Eastern
blood may course through our veins, we are links in a chain of a very
special tradition and it is crucial that we keep that tradition
intact so that it can be bequeathed to the next generation in its
entirety.

I
lived in China which, contrary to what many Westerners believe, is
not “the land of bowing.” Japanese culture emphasizes bowing as
a form of courtesy; Chinese culture does not. Thus, Chinese martial
arts instruction generally does not begin with any kind of formal
bowing. The lack of such “old-fashioned formalities” is readily
apparent and it is my opinion that it has a negative impact on their
training.

A
formal training period concludes in much the same manner. Students
line up and, in the case of most Japanese martial traditions, kneel
down and the command of “mokuso!” is repeated. Students will
take a few seconds to consider what they have learned and prepare
themselves to re-enter their daily lives. The teacher and students
then exchange bows. Students then rise and again adopt the position
of “readiness” before being dismissed.

“Alright”,
you say. “So, this is part and parcel of a martial arts class.
It's a cute ritual but what has it got to do with living in the
modern world? And the answer is, “More than you suspect.”
Discipline and control are two of the key elements.

In
this regard, discipline has to do with proper conduct and perhaps
more importantly, self-control. The two go hand in hand and they are
very important ingredients if you expect to enjoy a successful,
satisfying life. These virtues are easy enough to nurture when
you're healthy and in good spirits but the real test lies in your
ability to cultivate them when you're not feeling well. After all,
anyone can maintain a fair level of self-control when they're feeling
“up” but it's another story when they're angry, frightened,
frustrated, discouraged, depressed, or in pain. Learning to preserve
your composure under such adverse conditions requires a fair measure
of discipline and is one of the objectives of your training.

The
discipline and control that are developed in the training hall should
be carried over into your daily life where it will affect everything
that you do, from how you stand up and sit down to how you drink your
morning coffee, cook up some pasta, and even how you brush your hair.
Of course, it also impacts the larger, more dynamic elements of your
life such as how your perform your job and the relationship you have
with everyone who walks into your world; your co-workers, your boss,
your spouse, your friends, family, and ultimately...yourself.

Thursday, May 25, 2017

When I
was finishing my first book, “The Making Of A Butterfly”, I asked
my literary agent about the odds of finding a publisher who might be
interested in it. He chuckled. “Authors often worry a lot about
whether or not they'll find a publisher who will accept their work.
The truth is that publishers are always on the look out for good
writers! They need you as much as you need them.” As years passed
and I published more books, I realized the truth of his words. I now
pass them to aspiring authors.

The
same thing is true of martial arts teachers and students. Students
seek instructors who are eminently qualified. At the same time, good
martial arts teachers are looking for students who have what it takes
to learn what they teach. This is a terribly difficult task, much
moreso than the student's search for a good instructor.

At the
time that I wrote this, I lived in southern China. To be quite frank,
real martial arts in China are, for all intents and purposes, dead.
Anyone who says differently is either lying or has never lived here.
There is a tiny handful of teachers who are skilled in the authentic
martial ways still alive, but they are as rare as hen's teeth. I
was recently contacted by another American who's presently living in
the nightmare of Beijing. He's been here for quite a number of years
and has been training with an older gentleman who is likely one of
(or perhaps, the) highest authorities on the Yin style of baguazhang.

The
teacher is on the wrong side of eighty and his health is beginning to
fail. My friend tells me that he's not sure how much longer his
teacher will be with us. This highly knowledgeable instructor has
only four students and two of them are foreigners! How sad. My
friend sighs and says that his teacher has a great wealth of
knowledge but because of the lack of dedicated pupils, he'll probably
take much of it with him to his grave. This how martial arts systems
slowly die out.

My old
friend, Master Seiyu Oyata (dec.), a 10th
dan in Ryukyu kempo, had a similar story. As a young man, he had
learned tui-te from the legendary Chojun Miyagi. It was, he was
told, the form of tui-te that belonged to the Miyagi clan (of which
he was actually a member, but that's a story for another time).
Oyata said the only other form of tui-te that he knew of was from the
family of Motobu. There were three Motobu brothers, the youngest of
which was Choki. The two older brothers disapproved of Choki's
penchant for fighting and wouldn't teach him the family tui-te
system. Instead, they passed it down to one of their students whose
family name was Uyehara. When I first met Master Oyata, Master
Uyehara was in his 90's and still living in Okinawa. According to
Master Oyata, Uyehara had no worthy students to whom he felt he could
teach the Motobu clan's method of tui-te. In any event, Uyehara was
much too old to teach it at that time... so, Oyata mourned the loss
of another martial art system. It died for lack of worthy students.

Friday, April 28, 2017

I first
heard those words many, many years ago and I took them to heart.
Martial arts were my great passion and they remain so to this day. I
wanted to push the envelope; to see just how far I could go. I read
about numerous masters of times past and determined that I would do
what they'd done. After all, they weren't gods; they were men just
like me. If they could do it, I could do it.

Many of
you are probably shaking your heads and thinking, “What a fool...
That's a fine way to get hurt very badly. Or killed. You were
certainly a very foolish young man.” And looking back on those
days, I'd have to agree with you. But I wasn't stupid.

I read
about the legendary “arrow catch”, which is an extremely
dangerous technique that involves catching an arrow in mid-flight.
The legendary “godhand”, Master Masutatsu Oyama, said that of
1,000 students, only one or two would attempt to learn such a
technique. And of the 1,000 who set out to perform it, only a couple
who be successful. It kind of makes you wonder what happened to the
998 who failed, doesn't it? But I didn't consider that. I was never
much good at math, anyway.

I was
still in college and young enough to think that I was invincible;
that I could be one of the “one or two” who would succeed. “If
they can do it, I can do it”, I thought. One of my students was a
very skilled archer who owned a good recurved bow and he agreed to
work with me, We spent months practicing together. Eventually, I
would face him at the opposite end of a basketball court. An
arrow-net was placed behind me to prevent arrows from striking the
walls of the old college gym. Just as he released the arrow, I'd
pivot and catch it.

This
isn't something that can be accomplished after only a couple of weeks
of practice. I may have been foolhardy but I wasn't stupid. We
started out by having me simply stand off to one side and observe how
quickly the arrows passed by me. Then I would reach out and try to
grab them. It was a slow and gradual process that required some
considerable time. I would go on to demonstrate this technique at
several demonstrations.

I also
wanted to test myself by breaking large stones. Starting with very
small ones, I eventually succeeded in cutting a 25 lb. stone with my
sword-hand. My hand shook uncontrollably for three days but I was
pleased that I had accomplished what I'd set out to do. I continued
to train until I could shatter a “paver” brick (which is a little
more than an inch thick) with my fingertips and split a coconut with
a single blow.

Now,
I'm not bragging. I've never been one to indulge in
self-aggrandizement. I've never had much time for people who do.
The point of this short essay is simply this; although what I pushed
myself to do was often very dangerous, it had a very profound impact
on my mind and spirit. Martial arts isn't just about learning some
exotic forms of kicking and punching; it's also about pushing
yourself beyond what you perceive as your limits. It's about setting
goals and then going beyond them. If you mindlessly practice a few
punches and kicks once or twice a week, you're not really practicing
martial arts; you're dancing. Without proper spirit, martial arts
devolve into little more than some nifty-looking calisthenics.

Certainly,
I'm not suggesting that you run to the nearest sporting goods store
and purchase a good bow and a handful of arrows or drive through the
countryside until you can find a 20 lb. stone. After all,
techniques such as the arrow-catch are fraught with danger and anyone
who aspires to do them must train very carefully and gradually. You
must push yourself slowly, step by step. Remember that when I
trained to perform these things I was young, in excellent physical
condition (I suppose my mental condition could be called
questionable), and I had practiced martial arts for a very long time.

What
I'm suggesting is that you strive to push yourself past your
“limits.” After all, it's YOU who set those limits in the first
place! It's going to take some considerable work and sweat to get to
the very edge of your limits... and then it'll require more than just
sweat to go beyond them; it's going to take time, guts, and belief in
yourself.

Monday, April 17, 2017

Although the
term, "kung-fu" (also, "gongfu"), serves as a
generic term for Chinese martial arts, use of the term in that regard
is actually a misnomer. As most of you already know, "kung-fu"
refers to a fine, high level of skill that is developed over a period
of time through hard work. Thus, "kung-fu" can actually be
applied to any martial discipline as well as many other activities
that require rigorous and regular practice over a period of time.

Throughout the
Orient it is understood by most persons who endeavor to train in any
martial form that substantial skill cannot be acquired quickly and
any teacher who promises otherwise is nothing more than a charlatan
whose main interest (and skill) lies in separating a student's money
from his wallet. At the same time, there are those who come from the
other end of the spectrum and insist that students must practice this
or that training routine (and pay for it every month, of course) for
an extraordinarily long period of time if he or she hopes to acquire
a high level of skill.

The truth, of
course, lies somewhere in the middle and students must be careful
about selecting a good teacher.

In the West we
are accustomed to things being accomplished fairly quickly. We have
microwaveable meals (which aren't really food....), instant
entertainment (just turn on the television), quick diets (which don't
work), and so on. When we want something, we want it NOW. When
martial arts were first introduced to the West, a number of
enterprising instructors realized that a great deal of money could be
made by short-cutting training routines and providing forms of
"instant martial arts." My own teacher envisioned this
happening although his young pupil (moi) just couldn't see it coming
down the pike. But it arrived like a thunderbolt and it's here to
stay.

No doubt, some of
the old, traditional training routines were extremely tedious but
they were necessary for the development of genuine martial skill (as
opposed to what is presented nowadays as being martial skill).
Westerners, being the way they are, sought to find short-cuts through
much of what they regarded as "unnecessary, old-fashioned,
unrealistic" training. Many honestly believed that they had
found ways to shorten the training process but the truth is much
different.

My teacher
likened the process to making tea. To make tea the old way takes time
and any attempt at hurrying the process will only ruin the drink. To
be sure, we now have "instant tea" but my teacher couldn't
stand the taste of it. There's tea and then there's tea.

Even so, most of
those who have undertaken the study of a traditional martial
discipline with the understanding that it's going to take time to
develop real skill will still often catch themselves "shaving
corners" and trying to take "big steps." Such attempts
at hurrying the training process and the evolution of genuine skill
almost always result in frustration and/or injury.

I knew one young
man who wanted to develop large callouses of his punching knuckles.
He beat the living bejeezus out of his striking post (which was
incorrectly made and was akin to hitting a tree) and mangled his
hands...he didn't realize that hardening the hands is NOT the primary
objective of training with this particular device, and he finally had
to give it up. Of course, he then argued that training with the post
was "old-fashioned", unnecessary, and unrealistic.

Another fellow
dreamed of being able to execute his form with the same precision,
grace, and power as his teacher. He trained his form for 2-3 hours
every day, suffering pulled muscles as well as numerous other minor
injuries. He ultimately gave up, insisting that forms were
"old-fashioned", unnecessary, and unrealistic.

And yet another
student envied the uncanny fighting skill of his seniors. He dreamed
of becoming an invincible warrior and practiced shadow-boxing and
sparring incessantly. When he engaged in sparring practice he often
went at it with a bit too much power and the wrong mind-set (he was
determined to "win"), so, of course, he often went home
with bruises, cracked ribs, black eyes, and many other booboos. He
finally gave up, saying that traditional training was
"old-fashioned", unnecessary, and unrealistic.

Progress in real
martial arts comes in what I call "baby steps"; little
steps that are sometimes too small to even measure or notice right
away. Regular practice is essential. After all, a toddler will never
learn to walk if he or she only tries to do it once in a while. So,
if you train (at home) just every now and then, you can be assured
that you're getting nowhere. On the other hand, if you're training at
home 3 days a week or more and you're taking your time (taking "baby
steps"), you can be confident that you're developing genuine
skill - and if you keep at it long enough you'll develop real
"kung-fu."

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

At the very
beginning of any form, there is a brief period where you just stand
still in a "natural" stance and relax. You're not
"damp-rag" relaxed but you're not like a wooden soldier,
either. In the internal schools of China (Taijichuan, Xingyichuan,
and Baguazhang) this is known as the state of "wuji" (also,
"wu-shi") and although most contemporary practitioners tend
to ignore it, it's really a very important part of the form. In
fact, it's so important that if you don't do it right, your entire
form is wong Other martial arts - from aikido to karate to iaido -
also use this concept and "positioning" but they call it by
different names.

To understand how to stand correctly in wuji,
you have to dig into the fundamental concepts of Chinese cosmology.
You're all familiar with the double-fish diagram of the Taiji
("Tai-Chi"). Yin and Yang. Yin represents the negative
polarity and Yang is positive, although each one contains an element
of the other - the potential to turn into the other. Extreme Yin
eventually becomes Yang and extreme Yang turns into Yin.

It is
said that when the universe was created, that's when Yin and Yang
were created (the stage of Taiji was created) and gave birth to the
"ten thousand thing" - which, in ancient Chinese
terminology - means "everything."

But what existed
before the creation of Yin and Yang? What was there before the Big
Bang?

Wuji.

The kung-fu teachers who first tried to
teach their arts to Americans in a second language (Engrish) had a
tough time trying to find the right word(s) to define the state
of wuji. Many of them settled on "nothingness" or even
"vacuum." But using those words only created more
confusion.

Their students would stand in the
position/condition of wuji and just be "blank." Like a wet
rag. No-thing. And that's not wuji at all.

Before the creation
of Yin and Yang there was the condition of wuji but it wasn't
"nothing." It wasn't a vacuum. You can't get "something"
out of "nothing." And yet, what wuji is, is neither Yin nor
Yang.

It is Potential. That is, it has the potential to expand
outward and become something. It has the potential to explode into
Yin and Yang.

I know this sounds like so much Oriental
mumbo-jumb but listen up, Buckwheat.

When you stand at the
beginning of your form you must be neither Yin nor Yang. You must be
in (an imitation of) the state known as wuji. You aren't "empty."
You have the potential to move and become something...

When an
iaido practitioner kneels (in seiza) and prepares to execute a
particular kata (form), he/she begins by relaxing and breathing down
to the tanden (dantien). He/She makes three calm breaths before
performing the first movement. During this time, he/she is not yet
"performing the kata." There is the potential for movement
but movement has not yet occurred. It is the stage of wuji.

If
you think about the first movement (or any movement at all), if you
think about what you're doing...it's not wuji because you're moving.
Internally. And that's going to affect the way you begin - and finish
- your entire form. Your body will be too tense or tensed in the
wrong places, your mind is distracted and running ahead of where the
body is, and your spirit is scattered. So is you chi. Remember that
where your yi goes, your chi goes.

So reflect on this concept
for a while and try to get a feel for what it is. Then apply it to
your forms and the rest of your practice.

YILIQUAN

The famed One Principle Fist!

The Author

THE MAKING OF A BUTTERFLY

MARTIAL MANEUVERS

MARTIAL MECHANICS

HIDDEN HANDS

Developing Jin

Welcome To My Blog!

I've been involved in the traditional martial arts for a little more than five decades and in all that time, I've seen minimal material concerning the spiritual side of the martial ways available to students or instructors. In my blog I'll try to present some of my thoughts and experiences in that regard. I hope that some of this material will prove helpful to you as you continue your journey along the rocky path of the martial ways.

Books I have authored (available through Amazon.com and at fine bookstores):

The Making Of A Butterfly

Martial Mechanics

Martial Maneuvers

Hidden Hands

Developing Jin

I lived in mainland China for 3 yrs. and I have taught many seminars, both in the U.S. and the U.K. If you are interested in hosting a special seminar, please contact me at: sifustarr@gmail.com

There Is No Opponent Other Than Yourself

In One Blow I Smash The Mirror Of A Thousand Lifetimes

About Me

I began training in the martial arts in 1956. My primary art is Yiliquan kung-fu, which I developed after training with my teacher, Master W.C. Chen (a student of the legendary Zhang Zhaodong).
I am also a yudansha of Kyokushin karate, and a certified instructor of the Pekiti-Tersia arnis system.
I was the first kung-fu stylist to become a U.S. National Champion under the auspices of the USKA (United States Karate Assn) in 1976. In 1992 I came out of retirement to become U.S. National Champion once again.
From 1991-95 I was the National Chairman for the AAU Chinese Martial Arts Division, which became the largest kung-fu organization in the nation.
I have authored five books to date; The Making Of A Butterfly, Martial Mechanics, Martial Maneuvers, Hidden Hands, and Developing Jin.
I lived in China for 3 yrs.,in the bowels of the dragon...Liuzhou City, Guangxi Province, China. and have now returned to Omaha, NE. where I continue to write and teach traditional Chinese martial arts.